


Lopin' Along Thru the Cosmos

by logogram



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: F/F, Fear of Flying, Girl Direction, Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-05
Updated: 2015-01-05
Packaged: 2018-03-05 11:38:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3118751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/logogram/pseuds/logogram
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry and Louis end up as seat mates on a flight from London to Seychelles, and Harry is afraid of flying. Louis helps her over her fear.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lopin' Along Thru the Cosmos

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Star55](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Star55/gifts).



> Harry and Louis fly from London Heathrow to Charles de Gaulle (Paris, France), then to Abu Dhabi (UAE), and finally to Victoria Airport (Mahé, Seychelles). While that flight would often use a different airline for the London to Paris flight, for the purposes of this story, I chose to have all the flights be on Etihad Airways. And while Louis talks about being shoved into coach, Etihad coach is no regular coach.

Louis has just settled back in her seat when she feels the thump of something falling into her lap. The headphones (huge, over-ear design, she notices) are followed in short order by a water bottle and, finally, a tangle of silk scarves. She looks up, bewildered at the idea that her seat mate appears to be throwing things at her, and stops.

The seat mate, it turns out, is tall and curly and brunette and spectacular-looking, and Louis is prepared to forgive her immediately for the flying objects.

“Oops,” the girl says, her eyes wide.

“Hi.” Louis feels as though this may not be the appropriate response to make to someone who signals their arrival in first-class by using a fellow passenger for target practice, but what else could she possibly say?

“I’m Harry,” the girl continues, as she makes to reach for her belongings, all of which are currently located right on top of Louis’s crotch.

And no. The first time this girl gets her hands in Louis’ lap, it will not be to retrieve travel items. As quickly as she can, she bundles everything into the scarves and shoves it toward the girl, who looks frankly baffled at Louis’ abruptness. She drops the scarves into her tote, places the water bottle and headphones onto her footrest, and settles into her seat. Turning to Louis once more, she smiles brightly (almost maniacally, Louis thinks- but again, this girl is far too stunning to let a little thing like that stand in their way).

“I’m Harry,” the girl repeats, extending her hand across the divider. “And you are…?”

“Louis,” Louis replies, “and also completely confused about how the entire contents of your bag ended up in my lap when we’re in first class and there is a partition between us.”

The girl’s (Harry’s- Louis reminds herself) eyes widen even further, a blush rising on her cheeks. “Oh. Well, I was walking to my seat and I tripped over my foot. I guess my bag was open and everything spilled out. And I think I must have pitched forward a bit when I fell, so… well, everything ended up in your lap.”

As the flight attendants continue preparing for departure, Harry babbles away, asking Louis about her connecting flight once they land in France, exclaiming delightedly when she finds that they’ll be continuing on the same flights to Abu Dhabi and finally to Seychelles.

“This is my first flight ever!” she exclaims as they begin to taxi, and now it’s Louis whose eyes widen.

“Your first flight, and you’re flying alone, first class, to Seychelles? What in the world?”

“Well, you see, my mum is getting married, and she and her fiancé wanted a destination wedding, and they decided on Seychelles, so she and my sister have been down there for days getting everything ready, and Robin flew down two days ago. But I’ve had to sit for exams, and now that I’m finally done, I’m joining them.”

“But first class, Harry?”

“Well, Mum and Robin reckoned I’d be less likely to turn around in France and take a train back to London if I was so comfortable that I forgot I was flying.” She grins, quick and impish.

“Are you frightened of flying, then?”

“Terrified, absolutely petrified of it. One of my earliest memories is of seeing the wreckage of a plane in some film, and I’d never get on one after that. Went all over Europe by train after I finished sixth form, but Mum wouldn’t have her wedding in Saint-Tropez or Algarve no matter how much I tried to convince her.”  
Louis can’t help but grin herself. “Seychelles or nothing, then?”

Harry puts on a scolding tone. “Harry Styles, you are 21 years old and you are more than able to get on an airplane for your own mother’s wedding!” She laughs. “And what could I say after that?”

“‘Yes, Mum,’ I imagine,” Louis responds wryly.

Harry nods. “So here I am, spilling things on innocent passengers and trying to pretend that I’m not going slightly out of my mind with fear.”

Louis reaches out, pats her on the shoulder. “Well, if it makes you feel better, I must have flown on a hundred flights, and here I am, still alive and kicking. And I can promise you, your first flight is already miles better than mine.”

“Because you’re here?”

“Obviously not, Harriet, I was there for that one, too.” She quirks her eyebrows at Harry’s indignant expression. “Because, Rose DeWitt Bukater, you’re not crammed into steerage with the rest of the doomed passengers.”

Harry huffs out a laugh. “Did you just make the worst Titanic joke in the world? That was truly awful.”

It’s Louis’s turn to huff now. “It wasn’t that bad! You’re laughing, and besides, I got your mind off flying long enough for us to take off and get to cruising altitude.”

“Are we really?” Harry looks skeptical.

“We are,” Louis answers, “and we’re out of the first three minutes of flight, and everyone knows that’s when most crashes happen, so we’re obviously invincible.”

Harry laughs again, and it’s all Louis can do not to puff out her chest in victory. Normally, at this point in the journey, Louis would have in her noise-canceling earbuds and would be starting the first of her three in-flight naps, but Harry is proving to be an even better diversion than sleep.

It feels as though five minutes have passed when the pilot announces that they’ll be landing at Charles de Gaulle soon. Harry turns to Louis, her eyes opened beseechingly. “The last eight minutes have loads of crashes, too, don’t they? What if we die? What if we make it and I get lost in the airport and don’t get on the next flight?”

“Harry, love, I promise that I will personally convey to your mother in Seychelles without any harm to a single hair on your head. Besides, once we get to the first class lounge, you don’t have to worry a bit about getting lost in the airport.”

Harry shakes her head. “You don’t need to worry about me. I don’t want to mess up your vacation."

“Come on, Harriet.” Louis slings her arm around Harry’s shoulders. “You’ve known me for a good hour and a half. Do I seem so selfish to you? Have I ever let you down before now?”

“Lou!” Harry giggles. “Of course you haven’t, but I can’t ask you…” She looks over, blinking at Louis through her eyelashes.

“I’m making sure that you make it to Seychelles in one piece, Harry, and that’s final.” Just then, the plane touches down, and Louis feels a sweep of pleasure at distracting Harry so handily that she never had a chance to be truly frightened during her first flight. She deserves a true pat on the back for that one, she thinks, but she’ll settle for the chance to escort Harry to the lounge and onto the next flight.

***

When they’ve gotten settled in with drinks in the first class lounge, Harry mentions that she hadn’t seen Louis in the lounge before the last flight.

“I was in a meeting,” Louis responds.

“But it’s a Sunday!” Harry exclaims.

“The business world waits for no woman, Harriet,” Louis says solemnly. “Besides, I’m out of the office for the next two weeks, so anything that was going to be done, I had to finish before leaving.”

“Do you own your own business, then?”

Louis shrugs. “Nah, my mate Zayn owns it, started it when we were in uni, and she hired me straightaway when she realized that it was more than she could handle on her own.”

“What kind of business is it?”

“Lingerie.” Louis grins at Harry’s gulp. “Zayn designs it, but I’m over most of the day-to-day business. I get to boss people around and watch gorgeous women model lingerie, so it’s possibly the best job I could have ever had.”

“Sounds like it.” Harry’s voice has gone up nearly an octave, and a blush is spreading across her cheeks. “And do you… I mean, what line is it? Do you have pictures?” She sounds almost reluctant to ask, but there’s a definite touch of eagerness in her voice and a chorus of, “She’s gay, she’s gay, she’s gay!” goes running through Louis’s head.

So she pulls out her iPad and flicks to some of the latest designs that Zayn had uploaded to their cloud, shown to perfection by Liam, Niall, and… shit. By Eleanor. It’s not that she’d been in love with Eleanor, but showing pictures of your ex-girlfriend to the girl you’re trying to get to know is never good game.

Fortunately, Harry doesn’t seem to notice any changes in her demeanor, remarking instead about the materials used in the lingerie, and how well the designs complemented the models’ figures, and how proud Louis must be to have helped build a successful company at such a young age. She’s utterly sincere, and Louis can’t help but feel flattered.

As Louis is searching for the album of Zayn’s newest designs, the gate attendant interrupts to let them know that their flight to Abu Dhabi is boarding and Harry grips Louis’s hand- whether in fear or excitement, Louis isn’t sure. When Harry spots the plane through the plate window, she squeezes Louis’s hand even harder, her nails digging into Louis’s palm.

Louis turns to her. “Harry, it isn’t different than the one we took from London. You don’t have to worry at all.”

“Louis.” Harry lets out a shaky breath. “If it weren’t for you, I’d be thisclose to hopping on a train back to England. I am so, so happy that you’re here. And now we need to get on this flight before I lose my nerve.”

Two hours in, they’ve eaten an amazing meal and Harry’s laid out her seat and cuddled under her blanket when, out of nowhere, the plane… drops. Just a bit, but it’s still enough to forewarn coming turbulence. Louis, who has been through her share of rough flights, holds her breath and prays that Harry doesn’t wake up. At first, it seems that Harry’s sleeping through it, until she starts twisting a bit and muttering in her sleep.

It’s only when the bumping becomes a constant that Harry sits up and-honestly- tries to climb over the short wall between them.

“Harry- Harry! You can’t climb over that; somebody will see and we’ll never be able to fly Etihad again. Sit still a minute and I’ll come over to your side.” She gets up to make her way over, trying to make herself as unobtrusive as possible. She’s made it almost all the way to the other side of their seats when the flight attendant spots her.

“Ma’am, please return to your seat and buckle your safety belt. The captain has informed us that he’ll be turning the seatbelt light back on momentarily.” She smiles and continues walking toward the front of the cabin.

The moment her back is turned, Louis forgets unobtrusiveness and scurries toward Harry’s cubicle.

“Ma’am?” Darn it, Louis was sure she wasn’t paying attention anymore. “Please return to your seat, not to your girlfriend’s.” She gives Louis a pointed look and waits for Louis to head back to her own seat.

She darts around the cubicle, in a hurry to get back to her seat, where she can see Harry. When she gets there, Harry’s eyes are clenched shut tightly, her arm reaching over the armrests toward Louis’s seat. Louis winds her fingers through Harry’s and hears Harry let out a shuddering breath.

“I’m so sorry, H, the flight attendant wouldn’t let me come to your seat; I have to be buckled in.”

Harry sniffles. “It’s okay, I wouldn’t want you to die in a crash just because you were trying to make me feel better.”

They sit in silence for a moment.

“Hey, Harry? Want to hear the story of how I ended up on a flight to Seychelles beside the most adorable floppy-haired girl in the world?”

Another sniffle, quieter this time. “Sure.”

“Well, we’ve been working for years to get our line in every major department store around the world, as well as increasing our number of free-standing stores. So I’d been coming in late at night, after everyone left, to make sure everything was all neatly tied up on my end. I thought that Tim, the security guard, was keeping it a secret, but it turns out that he was feeding information to Zayn.” She scowls and Harry chuckles.

“I knew I shouldn’t have trusted him when he said that Zayn was the most beautiful woman to ever grace the Earth with her presence. Anyway, she’d been pressing him for information about my hours, and when I came in on Valentine’s Day, he called her and she came down to the office, freaking out and demanding that I take a vacation.” Zayn had also said that Louis need to “fucking get laid for once,” but Louis figured that Harry didn’t need to hear that part of the conversation.

“And now here you are.”

“Here I am,” Louis replies, “with you, even better.”

“So are you vacationing by yourself, or…” Harry trails off, raising her eyebrows at Louis in question.

“By my lonesome for a week, and then Zayn’s coming down to join me. She’d have done the whole time, but I think we were both afraid that one of us might kill the other with that much togetherness.”

Harry makes a happy little sound in her throat and pulls Louis’s hand more firmly into her lap.

***

They fly out of the turbulence pretty quickly after that, and the rest of the flight, as well as the next one, is smooth sailing, all things considered. Soon- too soon, Louis thinks darkly- they find themselves at the Seychelles airport, waiting for the cars that would take Louis to her hotel and Harry to the house her family had rented.

When a small black car pulls up, a tiny sign in the window with “Styles” written across it, Harry throws herself into Louis’s arms. “I couldn’t have done it without you,” she breathes into Louis’s neck. “I would have had a stroke midair if I hadn’t had you.”

Louis laughs thickly. “Oh, Harriet, you would have been fine. The flight crew is payed more than enough to revive you.”

She feels Harry shake her head where it’s buried in Louis’s neck. “I think I’ll be okay on the way back, though, now that I’ve done it once.” Harry squeezes her a last time and hops into the car, grinning, far too happy in the face of their impending separation, as far as Louis was concerned.

It’s just— Louis’d been certain that Harry was as interested as she was.

Just as she’s readying herself to go back into the airport and call to see where in the world her car is, she hears a screech from Harry’s departing car. “See you at the wedding, Lou!”

And, what? Harry’d made no mention of Louis coming to the wedding. She doesn’t even know the date or the location. Sighing, she reaches into her bag for the print-out confirming her car reservation, so that she can call from the transportation desk. The paper she pulls out, though, is much heavier.

It’s a wedding invitation, slightly crumpled, with a neat, “Turn me over” and a smiley face inscribed on the bottom right corner. When Louis does turn it, she finds that Harry’s written a message that takes up nearly the whole of the invitation’s back.

Lou,  
Thanks so much for putting up with me during the flight, even after I made the worst first impression I could have possibly done! I had the best time with you and I’d hate for it to end just because the plane landed. Anyway, when you went to the loo in Abu Dhabi, I called Mum and she said that she’d love to have you at the wedding. So, will you be my date and pick me up off the sand when I trip over my dress?  
Harry xxx

 

P.S. The wedding’s not for days… and I’d love to see you before then, so call me?  
P.P.S. Sorry I didn't ask you about the wedding before I asked Mum. I thought that if you rejected me, at least it wouldn't be in person.  
P.P.P.S. Your bum looks amazing in those leggings. Just thought you should know.

￼

Below this is listed every possible way to contact Harry, from her Twitter handle to her future stepfather’s work email address, complete with parenthetical notation— “(He probably won’t check this, but I wanted to make sure you could get in touch with me.)”

Louis grins and pulls out her phone. Tapping Twitter, she tweets, “Come on over then, at the Hilton,” and tags Harry in it.

Less than a minute later, Harry uploads a selfie in return, with thumbs up and wide grin, the caption reading, “I’ll meet you poolside pumpkin… don’t forget my armbands.”

Louis doesn't stop beaming the whole way to the hotel.

 

￼

This story is in honor of my first flight, which was so turbulent that I didn’t realize what a normal flight was like until my return trip. It’s made all subsequent flights gloriously easy, even during the worst storms and turbulence. Inspired by [this](http://selenaestella.tumblr.com/post/106049364990/tickatocka-airport-related-aus-tho-i-fell) post.


End file.
